Home
by Werewolf of Fire
Summary: Ever wonder why Peta joined the Chess? About what could possibly make him hate the world as much as Phantom does? This is my take on Peta's past. eventual yaoi, violence, OCs, rating will change Updated 11.07.07
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own MAR: Marchen Awakens Romance! All credit for the characters and story plot goes to Nobuyuki Anzai.

_Warning: _OOCness, OC madness this chapter, AU, eventual yaoi, swearing (perhaps, I haven't decided on this yet), violence. I'd like to let everyone know that I have no knowledge of things after the part of MAR where the Chess attack Caldea. –nod- Other than that, all spelling/grammatical errors are my own. If you spot some mention them and I will fix them.

* * *

**Home**

**Prologue**

The sky was an endless sea of blue, filled with the light, fluffy clouds she spied swimming across it leisurely as though they had no care or worry in the world. The sun was hot, almost as though it were a lantern that was being held far too close to her face, but she couldn't help but smile as she continued to eye the sky; Her village didn't have a view of the sky, not like the Ulyss desert, a few miles North of it did. It was the same desert she was crossing to get home then with it's golden orange sands and many, forever moving and changing dunes.

The village of Kaia, her home village, was set in the Ambrose forest. It was a forest that was renown because of its magnificently tall trees which mostly consisted of oaks, elms and rickety Trees of Life. The colours that paint in the surroundings of her home were rich greens and browns, the smell being of moist undergrowth and fresh water, usually caused by the regular rain they were blessed with. She wad always felt like a tiny ant when ever she'd walk beneath them.

She wiped the sweat that dampened her brow with the back of her hand, before she wiped it on her cloak. She wasn't of the desert, she'd realised that during her first trip across the sandy sea alone. Despite her fondness for its sky she'd never be able to live out here. She was made of pale skin, like that of pink tinted milk, dark honey locks that fell with a slight wave to her shoulder blades and large, round, doe-brown eyes, that just couldn't take the sun's glare for too long. Thankfully, her apparel was of the right sort for desert travelling; it consisted of a long sleeved shirt, thick gloves and long pants that encased her slender legs loosely. All of her clothes consisted of grey material and white stitching and were made with cotton; it would protect her from the sandstorms that rage over the desert's fields every night and sometimes during the day, but wouldn't lack the ability to been her cool. She had made them herself, as she proudly admitted when a woman in the markets at Aletea whilst she'd been delivering a large bundle of clothing one month sometime ago. Lastly, she carried a bark brown pouch that she kept slung over her shoulder. It was filled with enough food and water to last three days of traveling, despite the trip from Aletea to Kaia taking only two and was kept closed with a large golden buckle.

Still, despite her precautions, the woman wasn't meant to live in such a dry environment. As if agreeing with her decision, the sun suddenly felt far hotter on her hand as she began to feel her pale skin darkening and slowly turning red. However, despite her burns - it really was silly, she knew that - she couldn't help but smile at how free the eagles looked as they swooped and glided gracefully above her.

She pulled a lock of blonde-brown hair away from her face cringing at the oil she felt covering the strand, before she stumbled with a childlike giggle as she began to scale a tall, sand dune. She loved the desert; it was and always would be the opposite of her home with its golden sand and its sweltering heat. It was something she'd grown up with yet knew near nothing about. It was a dry, humid, _lifeless _place, but she couldn't help but admire it for its view of the sky. Kaia didn't have a sky like this one. All it possessed was a wide canopy of leaves, branches, fruits and seeds, that allowed strips of light to reach the ground from which the trees grew. But there wasn't any blue visible whatsoever. A sudden, silly thought entered her head as she wondered idly about what storm clouds looked like; she hadn't ever seen one, not clearly anyway. She cocked her head in thought as she continued to trudge through the sinking and slipping sand.

However, the love she felt for the desert, despite her dislike for the dry, scratchy sand that was getting into her thick, leather boots and rubbing in between her toes in the most annoying fashion, was tainted, and rightly so: A myth existed that told of a clan of demons that sought refuge in the sands of the Ulyss desert.

They were told to be of the most sadistic of sorts, with evil filled eyes that gleamed red in the dark and were strangely shaped and positioned on in their heads. The sand in which they lived upon was said to have caused an ugly, yellow tinge to have stained the demons' skin. But, the most fearful part of the tale was the parts that told of the demons' taste for blood, as it was supposedly much larger and far more fearsome than any leech or bat or any other predator she had ever heard of.

It was because of that that her father still worried about her, despite the fact that she was twenty-one and more than able to take care of herself in the harsh weather. He still attempted to convince her to allow one of their strong workers to escort her on her business trips. Yet she knew of the dangers, she knew of the sand storms that could cause her demise, and of the scorpions and snakes that often sought refuge from the sun in the places she did. Her father had taught her the ways of surviving in such a harsh place himself, but it seemed as though he had no faith in his teachings or her ability to use them.

She sighed exasperatedly to herself, knowing no-one would hear her tired whine of, "What a troublesome man."

She stumbled suddenly as her view of the sky quickly morphed into a view of the orange sand as she slipped and skid down, her eyes filled with surprise as she landed head over feet in the sand. With a groan she stood and began to dust herself off fractiously, realising quickly that it would take her a few days to rid her hair of the small grains now buried in it. After another moment, she began to rub her lower back with slim hands, muttering about her own clumsiness.

It was then that she spotted her first stop since her leaving the village of Alatea that morning; a monstrous rock formation with small caves littering its sides as though a giant had decided that it looked good enough to eat. She immediately picked up her pace – all the while watching where she's going this time – sore back and sand covered hair forgotten, whilst her handles began to clasp and fumble with her bag. It would feel great to get off her feet! She thought gleefully.

The sun was starting to set, causing splashes of golden orange, rich pink and purple to spread across the wide sky. She sat down and pulled her lunch box into her lap, before carefully taking a bite of her neatly wrapped lunch, a quiet whimper finding its way past her lips as she happily swallowed the still cool ham and lettuce and sipped at the water she'd carefully tipped against her light pink lips. It immediately soothed the burning sensation in her tummy and throat. She sighed with relief as she placed the heavy canteen back on the ground and continued to eat her sandwich. It was a cheap thrill, but she enjoyed her lunch anyway.

She continued to watch the sky as she yanked off her hood and blinked with wonder as a ship shaped cloud smoothly morphed into a roaring dragon. She giggled when it next appeared to be a bunny.

"What is such a precious flower doing in the middle of such a terrible place?" She heard a deep, rich voice ask from behind her abruptly. Her own was soothing and most definitely feminine, thus she immediately throws the idea of her talking to herself without her notice from her mind. And her father's voice was like feet walking across a gravel covered path; it definitely wasn't him coming out to greet her.

With a glare she turned towards the voice's origin. She found herself angry and yet afraid of the person who had decided to intrude on her peaceful world, "Excuse me?" She asked back, politely, hoping that her manners would aid her and discourage the stranger of any wicked intentions he might have dreamt up.

"I was not aware that the villagers allowed their women to wander across such dangerous land alone." A man decked in a dark cloak, much like her own but far more worn, said as he stepped out from behind a snaking pillar. His hood covered half of his face and left his mouth to show off a large grin, "I would not want to let you out of my sight. Surely your husband worries whilst you are gone."

"I have no husband." She replied quickly. She didn't want to have to use her father's ARM, but she would should the man attempt anything devious or unlawful. The stranger's grin grew larger, far larger than any jester's she'd witnessed. With a determined frown she continued, "And I've been travelling across this desert since I could walk. My father never liked to leave me at home."

"Your father is a smart man."

Her brown eyes flickered between her hands – that were working hard to pack her lunch back into her bag – and the tall stranger. He seemed to be civil enough, a bit on the blunt side of things, but not completely rude, "Who are you?" She asked cautiously, brown eyes locked on the man as he almost glided closer to her, like a butterfly scared to come too close, but still fluttering new by.

"Me?" The man questioned innocently, "I am Panos, a – a hermit, you might say. I live south-east of here."

"Where? In the Ambrose?"

"No." The stranger went silent for a moment, before his lips (that had been pulled into a small frown because of her suspicious tone) lifted into a large grin again. He stepped towards her gracefully, as though his feet didn't touch the stone lying beneath them. She was surprised to find her hand was taken with a yellow tinged, soft one gently. "I can show you." He said soothingly, "There is a sand storm coming. One your pathetic sheet won't be able to protect you from."

She glared with annoyance, "It's not a sheet!" She bit out as she dislodged her hand from his own hastily, "It's a tent. And no, I won't go with you. I refuse to!" She huffed with annoyance.

"I must insist."

"No." He was a typical man, she found herself thinking as she grabbed her pouch and she quickly pulled it to her chest, her eyes scanning the sandy horizon. She could run for it, she was quick; he wouldn't be able to catch her. Hopefully.

She was surprised when she turned back and found the man's hooded face a mere inch away from hers. Then, with a whimper she was lifted from the sandstone ground with surprisingly strong arms that held her against the man's hard chest. She spied immediately, that the hands that held her around the shoulders and under her knees were tainted yellow, as though he'd dyed much fabric the same colour. She yelped and clutched her pouch to her chest tightly, her fingers digging into the side of the bag as he began to walk – wait, no, this man wasn't stepping! His feet couldn't have been touching the ground; there was no up and down motion!

She heard the man chuckle as they began to glide away from the setting sun. He seemed thoroughly amused by her actions. He grinned down at her, "We'll be there momentarily." She gulped and found herself hoping for the best. Hoping that he wasn't going to harm her or use her for a ransom or – she just wanted to go home!

Her eyes were wide as they flew across the horizon, hoping with all her heart that someone – _anyone – _that knew her would amazingly appear and save her.

Fifteen minutes had passed when the stranger – Panos, she needed to remember his name; her manners might just save her from harm - next spoke, "What is your name?"

She remained silent for a moment, before she stuttered, "Orea."

The man – Panos, damn it! – hummed, "That's a very – befitting name."

"Why's that?" She questioned with a glare as she shifted in his arms. The arms immediately held her tighter.

"I am going to be frank-"

"I thought you said your name was Panos?"

Orea could feel his eyes staring down at her as he turned them on her, wide, spiked with annoyance from where there were hidden behind the shadows of his black hood. Surprisingly, he didn't drop her and kill her right then (perhaps she would have preferred it?), instead she heard him chuckle, "You have a quick mouth." He commented lightly, "But I do not take kindly to being interrupted. Let me finished, then you may make as many witty comments as you see fit, Orea." She glared defiantly, against her better judgement, and earned another amused chuckle.

Silence followed his last statement as Orea waited mutely for the following few minutes, growing more and more annoyed as Panos didn't make a noise tahat indicated he was going to continue. After a few more moments she was once again glaring up at him, "Are you going to finish what you were saying?"

"The correct moment is gone. Consider my words forgotten." Orea bit back an annoyed growl, as they continued to glide. If the man was going to torture her, kill her or use her for ransom he could – in the very least – talk to her in a far less annoying fashion! She'd been debating on whether to sit still as he delivered the final blow, but if he continued to treat her like a child she was going to fight back with scratches and bites. The resulting painful torture be damned!

A small glowing golden dot appeared above the slowly darkening sand, like a reed grew above the water's surface. Orea stared curiously; she hadn't ever been this far east of the Ambrose forest and she found herself wondering if such a wickedly shaped rock formation had always been here. It's to peaks were of like jagged knives, its base like a wind carved trunk of a tree. As they drew forever closer to it, she spied an oak door blocking the entrance what seemed to be a dug out cave. Orea supposed it was a suitable place to die without being found. She gulped nervously.

Much to her terror, the door seemed to open of its own accord as they neared it and Panos glided through it without any hesitation. Immediately, she set herself to finding items she could use as weapons and was surprised enough that when all she spied were a few books here and there, other than the plain furniture around the place. The entire home seemed very Spartan in nature.

She was set on the ground as gently as she'd been lifted, with one of the man's arms wrapped around her waist snuggly. She stood stupidly in the centre of what seemed to be Panos' living room, her bag still attached to her chest, and her cloak tickling the backs of her calves. The man moved further into the room, his steps audible against the cold stone. He disappeared into the room that's entrance was at the very back of the one Orea was standing in.

She heard the rustling of fabric and felt her heart beat quicken. Panos' rich voice followed the sound to her ears, "Do not stand there as though made of stone. I am sure you are hungry; I did interrupt your meal."

With a stutter Orea answered, "Oh, how kind of you to allow me to finish it. I've not heard of an abductor allowing his prisoners to eat before."

An exasperated sigh sounded from the other room as Orea stepped over to the book shelf carefully and quietly, acting as though she was examining the books' content as she sized them up. The book on the second shelf, nearest her head looked hard and heavy enough to use as a weapon…

"You have not been kidnapped. If you were to peek outside in an hour you will see that the sandstorm I have predicted will be seeking many lives to take." She heard his steps drawing nearer to her and spun around, "Are you interested in literature? I apologise; I am afraid my library is rather lacking."

Orea gaped, her eyes wide and filled with a fear she knew mice felt when faced by a much larger and hungry cat. The man had removed his cloak and was standing a few feet away from her, a curious expression on his face as his slanted, thin, light hazel eyes eyed her form. She stared at his skin; it seemed as though his hands weren't the only part of him that was stained yellow, whilst she barely noticing that his grey, straight hair was longer than her own wavy locks. She raised her right, slender hand to her lips, "Y-you're a d-demon?" She asked incredulously and with a stutter, the back of the book case pressed painfully against her shoulder blades and backside.

The man grinned, "Is that what your village refers to me as? And here I was under the impression that I was simply different." He asked, as he moved to light a candle and place it in the lantern positioned beside a small desk, beside a large, hard wooden chair.

Orea fell silent as the demon continued to wander across the room, lighting lanterns and dusting things off despite there not being any dust present. She flinched when he turned his hazel gaze back on her, "I am not going to eat you, Orea." He claimed and continued boldly, "I am afraid I have grown far too fond of you to do such a thing."

"M-Me?"

"Yes. It is rare that such a beautiful woman should find herself in my home." Orea would have rolled her eyes had she not been terrified enough to think that such an act would have resulted in her death, "Besides, I have already consumed what I craved and need. What other reason would I possess for being so far from my home?"

With her lack of a reaction, the demon stepped closer to her, frowning when she flinched and pushed herself back against the bookshelves, "I was not aware that your manners were so sorely lacking. You seemed keen in your prattle earlier." He said dejectedly.

Orea frowned also, "I didn't think I was being kidnapped by a demon." She whispered grumpily.

She jumped as he replied flippantly, "I have already told you. There is a storm blowing this way, you will die should you seek shelter outside. I have, in a way, saved your life."

With a huff, Orea snapped, "You have not! Bringing me here against my will is kidnap!"

"Then leave." Orea blinked with confusion and suspicion, as the demon walked up beside her, his eyes now on the books in the oak shelving she stepped away from hastily (she didn't want to be any less than five feet away from him at all times), "However, you face certain death by doing so. Remember that, Orea." He flicked open a book, his eyes focussed with much interest on the words she only caught a brief glance at.

"Y-You're not going to kill me?" She asked hesitantly.

"I see that your ears do not work as well as they should." The demon commented idly as he sat down in the very uncomfortable looking chair and began to read, "No. I will not eat you."

Before he could change his mind, Orea had her hood thrown over her wavy hair again, and was stumbling towards the door. She yanked it open and slammed it shut, praying that the monster would keep his word as she ran away from the stone house.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Papa scared you?" A small voice asked as the child it belonged to peered up at her with hazel, slanted eyes, much like his fathers, "But you said you love Papa!"

Orea chuckled, her arms wrapping themselves tighter around her son from where they sat on his large bed, "I do love your Papa, I just didn't at first." She soothed him, as her hands stroked the soft material covering his yellow tinged stomach, ridding it of wrinkles as he giggled and pushed her offending hand away, "Don't interrupt next time, Peta. Now, as I was saying…"

Orea smiled down at her son, her eyes alight as she retold the story of her and her now deceased husband's fell in love. She told him about how she'd nearly died that night because of the very violent storm Panos had predicted sweeping her into the sand and practically suffocating her, "It turned out that he did end up following me. And he swooped me up, as though I was a princess and carried me back to his home."

Her son's awed look made her giggle and kiss his cheek lovingly. Peta grinned back, his tiny, smooth lips brushing against her cheek in return. He shifted in her lap, his hands grasping the front of her night shirt, "What happened next?" He asked excitedly.

"Well, the next morning, he and I came to a truce of sorts, though I still didn't like him." She beamed brilliantly, "I said I never wanted to see him again. And he agreed to not speak to me again. So, whenever I had a business trip across the desert, he stood a few metres away from me and watched me make a fool of myself."

"You aren't a fool, mama." Peta giggled, "You're very graceful."

"Ah, not like your father was. He could float, have I told you yet?"

"Yep!" He answered, with a giggle. It was cut short when Peta yawned a huge, monstrous yawn.

Orea smiled a kind, motherly smile, her brown eyes filled with fondness as her son began to rub at his eyes like the adorable cherub he was. She combed her slender fingers through Peta's hair, untangling the few knots she found as gently as she could, "I think it's about time you went to sleep, Peta."

The little boy shook his head, causing his straight grey hair to blow behind him, "I want to hear more! Just a little bit? Please?"

The boy's eyes became wide and wet and Orea for the life of her could say no. She sighed a dramatic, exasperated sigh, "Oh, fine! But just a bit. Now, where was I?"

"Papa was watching you!"

"Ah, that's right. Yes, your father always watched me and then one day I grew tired of it and threw my lunch box at him…"

Her son's snicker made joy bloom in Orea's chest as she continued her tale. She made a determined face as she told Peta of how his father simply grinned as she yelled at him to 'Leave. Me. Alone!'. And how he'd made her far more furious as she'd been originally by not answering her questions simply because she'd told him to never speak to her again. "Three months later I married him in that plain, little house of his. Right after I discovered that we'd made you!"

Peta blinked curiously up at her, one of his tiny, five-year-old fingers in his mouth as he chewed on it and asked, "How did you and Papa make Peta?" His voice was quiet and full of sincere curiousity.

Orea giggled, "I'll tell you later, alright? Now, get to bed." Peta groaned childishly, all the while climbing under his thick blankets (that really were far too thick for summer; why was it that Peta had to inherit Panos' ability to feel the cold in the most warm of weather; it was insane!). She kissed his forehead, calling a goodnight that was echoed back to her as Peta curled himself up in the blankets and she headed out the door.

She kept a small smile on her pretty face as she walked distantly down the narrow hallway, heading towards the small kitchen. Sadly, she realised it was much, much smaller than the one she had whilst she lived in the very centre of Kaia.

She'd been forced from the village to live in small cottage a mile away from the town once it was known that she'd taken a demon as a husband and was carrying his chld. Her father hadn't been too pleased when she'd told him about Panos and Peta, or, to be exact, he'd been angry that he hadn't been introduced to her husband before they'd married, and because he wasn't present at their wedding. He'd seemed so pleased that he was going to become a grandfather, until he'd met Panos.

She remembered the day and the meeting far too well; it was burnt into her mind. The stuttering Orea had suffered from when she'd first met Panos was nothing when compared to her father's. He'd thought she'd been brainwashed, that a spell had been cast upon her. She supposed it was true in a way; Panos was extraordinarily good with words.

Orea smiled at the memory of the wonderful speech he'd recited (or seemed to, it was as though Panos were able to predict the future and written it in advance) about how happy he was that he would have the chance to be a father, and that it was only proper they'd marry. She laughed to herself as the memory of Panos' first words to Peta appeared in her mind, "Hello. You have just won me the chance to name you. Your mother thought you would be female." Of course, Peta had just bawled in response, whilst wriggling like a worm out of dirt in his father's hands. Still, he'd ended up calling Peta the name she'd chosen, claiming that Peta would work as well as a boy's name compared to a girl's.

She yawned, much like her son had done earlier, and poured herself a glass of water. She ought to get to bed; no doubt Peta would want an answer to his question before the sun had risen the next morning. She fingered her lips achingly, her eyes cast upon the floor as she slowly walked to her bedroom; she really could do with a kiss right then. Much like the ones she and Panos used to share.

* * *

**Woffy: **Trust me to fall sick the first effing day of the holidays. –sniffles- Damn it… 

Anyway… Before anyone asks me how the hell this chapter relates to MAR, read the last bit again. This is the prologue, the entire story won't be focussed on Orea. For now, how is my actual writing? How's the story looking? Is there enough description? Critique me! I'll most likely be back to edit and add stuff to this. As I said before, I'm sick and as a result my brain isn't working properly. I posted it because I knew I wouldn't if I didn't do it now. Yes, I'm that lazy.

Anyway, read, review and I'll be extremely grateful should you offer me critique. This is my first story where an OC that isn't a supporting character for the entire story.

-- Edit: 06/07/07: Just corrected and added a few things, I'm feeling much better now. :D --


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own MAR: Marchen Awakens Romance! All credit for the characters and story plot goes to Nobuyuki Anzai.

_Warning: _OOCness, OC madness this chapter, AU, eventual yaoi, swearing (perhaps, I haven't decided on this yet), violence. I'd like to let everyone know that I have only read the manga. –nod- Other than that, all spelling/grammatical errors are my own. If you spot some mention them and I will fix them.

* * *

**Home**

**Chapter 1**

It was the usual morning in Kaia; the trees were wet with dew, their leaves and the shrubbery beneath them was in the same state, though they didn't cause it to rain with every slight breeze. The sun had barely risen and the surroundings forest was dim with the few rays that made it through the thick canopy and foliage; it had always caused the villagers' day to start an hour later than the rest of the world. The air was crisp, cold and felt absolutely terrible, like a thousand tiny pins pricking into his yellow tinted skin. The feeling caused him to rub his arms in the huge effort of warming himself, despite the grey long sleeved shirt and the white and maroon jacket he was wearing and covered his arms right down to the finger tips. His mother had made both with his absolute abhorrence to the nippy weather in mind; despite how he seemed to feel it anyway.

He stood at the front door, a huge frown tugging at his almost pouting lips. His mother had wanted him to collect Shi from wherever he'd run off to during the frigid night. Not that it needed to be said, Peta didn't want to step out into the cold and bring him inside; the only reason she wanted him inside was so she knew he wasn't off terrorizing the neighbour's birds (though Shi didn't do that anyway). But it was so cold out there…

"Peta, you'll be late if you don't go now! Move it!" The ten year old whined childishly, before he hesitantly began to jog with legs that seemed far too long for his age, his eyes on the dirt beneath him as he hopped, bounded and stomped across the muddy ground. He was sure to be careful that he didn't slip, trip or make a fool of himself in any other way possible. It was enough that the other kids laughed because of his oddly coloured skin and his stupid eyes, bony being and his love for books; he didn't need to add 'klutz' to their lists of insults too, should they spot him with a sling or bandages.

It took a few minutes, but Peta found Shi in his usual place; lying asleep in a covered, dry hole that was dug into the side of an old oak's trunk. The tree was located five minutes running distance from his home. Peta stroked his black, white socks wearing cat, eyes focussed on the slowly flicking, bald tip of Shi's tail, a small smile on his face as the cat meowed happily from being petted. He seemed to enjoy having the base of his ears scratched and Peta always felt much delight from causing the cat to purr as he did.

"Ma wants you to stay in the house today." Peta said conversationally, as he lifted the cat from his place and gingerly held him in his skinny arms, against his equally bony chest. He frowned slightly when Shi took a swipe at one of the grey bangs hanging down in front of his face with a white paw, and quickly pulled it behind his ear, "Don't, I just brushed it." He shook his head, throwing his shoulder length hair behind him as the cat swung at another bang.

He began his ten minute trek back to the house, with a careful scan of the fern infested ground, vigilant that his dark tan, leather boots didn't sink into any puddles (heaven only knew how his mother would react should Peta have a muddy trail follow him into the house). Shi mewled drowsily and yawned like a lion, before he snuggled deep into his chest. Peta chuckled at his cat's antics and scratched beneath the creatures neck.

He'd found Shi two years ago, when he'd been exploring the dense undergrowth that grew beneath his favourite apple tree behind his mother's small cottage. He'd been a kitten back then, stumbling over his own feet with a head that seemed far too big for his body. He'd had the bald spot at the tip of his tail back then too. It had only taken Peta two hours to beg his mother to let him keep him and the cat had been with them ever since.

Peta spied his mother's form standing in the doorway as he neared the cottage, her pretty, petite, pale hands planted none-too-happily on her hips. He broke off into a run as he neared her, happy to see a steady stream of smoke rushing from the cottage's chimney. He let Shi down from his arms a few steps inside the house, almost forgetting to wipe his (only slightly) muddy feet as his body practically ached to take its usual spot in front of the stove his mother had returned to.

"He wasn't anywhere near George's birds, was he?" His mother asked sternly as Peta drug a plain, wooden seat to the open, fire oven she was working at. She was stirring the meaty broth in a large saucepan carefully, before she impatiently flicked a strand of hair from her face and moved to the other side of the kitchen.

The kitchen wasn't very big, though Peta found it to be the right size for his mother and himself to inhabit comfortably. However, he always felt a little crowded when his grandfather came to visit as his strong, pudgy body always seemed to take up half of their living space. Along the kitchen's back wall, to the left of the front door, there were two cupboards, one (with forever whining doors) for the vegetables and jams Peta's mother insisted she force down his throat (though Peta didn't understand how something so vile could possibly be good for his health). The other was closest to the window that adorned the left hand wall, and was stacked with plates, cups, bowls, saucers and other crockery they possessed too many of; they only ever used two at a time yet his mother insisted that they should keep the other six plates for guests (Peta had argued that they'd never had any, though it seemed his mother liked to think they would sometime in the not so distant future). There was another cupboard that housed his mother's keep-sakes, in the right, back corner of the kitchen. Its glass doors revealed several shelves full of small ornaments Peta used to enjoy staring at that ranged from playful dogs that were rolling over and bounding around with their tongues lolling out of their mouths to geese with midnight black top hats. The only other appliance was the stove in which Peta was currently making himself comfortable next to. It always made the kitchen smell like burning wood, and served as their makeshift fireplace.

Peta sighed and rubbed his hands together happily as he took his seat, his legs swinging aimlessly. He merrily switched between rubbing his hands together and holding them up to the fire, "He doesn't like Mr. George's birds, Ma. Shi prefers mice!" He said clearly.

"Make sure he keeps it that way. I don't want to hear George gripe at me again for something your cat's done, Peta." She bustled about the kitchen, pulling a pair of plates from the small cupboard and placing them on the heavy, oak wood table situated in the very centre of their kitchen. Peta cringed at the sight of the onion she placed on the table and began to roughly chop and chuck into a frying pan, before his mother strode to the stove and placed it on it with a clatter. When she returned to her spot at the table, Peta began to glower coldly across the table at the melon his mother then took a hold of and began to slice.

"Do I have to eat vegetables?" He asked quietly, in a near whine, "I don't like them."

His mother sighed exasperatedly, as though she'd told him the answer and explained it in detail a hundred times already. Which she probably had, though Peta always asked again anyway, his hopes that maybe one day she'd reply with a 'no' high, "Yes, you do. They'll help you grow up to be as tall as your father and as strong as your grandpa."

"You've always said that, but I'm still as skinny as," Light hazel eyes scanned the tidy room hurriedly, "As our broom!" He pointed at the offending object from where it was lying against the vegetable cupboard innocently.

Peta heard his mother sigh again, as he turned back to the fire and showed it the backs of his hands, "You're still young. Give it a few years to start working." She reasoned tiredly, "Now, no 'but's, 'if's or 'can I's, go and change your pants, you're not wearing your holy ones to your tutoring."

Immediately Peta gasped and stared at his pants, as though he was asked to kill someone and he couldn't believe his mother could have ask such a thing of him. He ran his now warmed hands down his thighs, finding there to be no reason to warm his legs any more than they were already. He was wearing his favourite pants. They were black, long, "But I like these pants! They're warm!" And that's all that mattered in Peta's youthful eyes.

"Peta," His mother said strictly as she paused in her slicing, "Get going."

"But-"

"Move it, or you won't get any breakfast!"

Peta pouted, but pushed himself off his seat, "Meanie." He snuffed, as he started the trek down the narrow hallway, to his room, careful to make sure he dragged his feet very audibly on the dull, wooden floor on his way.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The room was large and smelt of dust and aging paper. There were bookshelves placed like wallpaper by all the walls, lining it up to the wooden beams that supported the ceiling. They were all packed with books, the ones closer to the roof of a younger age than the heavy books near to the ground. Peta's light hazel eyes were glazed over and unfocussed as he attempted (and failed) to listen to his teacher from his place at the desk at the very back of the room. There were three other desks set up in front of the one he was sitting at, each with three children sitting at them, their books scattered over the large expanse of wood.

"Who can tell me where Kaldea is on the map?" A group of hands shot up, the children they belonged to yelling in unison as they did. The teacher – a middle aged woman with dimples, emerald eyes and a nest of brown, stringy hair – smiled and pointed, "Yes, Calla."

The tiny, blond girl stood up from her place at the front desk, between two other girls, and walked gracefully to the front of the room. As she neared the front of the room, one of her tiny hands were raised to point to the castle north-east of Lestava Castle, "There." She said sweetly.

Peta resisted the urge to bang his head on the desk he was currently falling asleep on; wasn't there something else they could study? They'd been learning about the geography of Mar Heaven for two weeks straight, and he was more than a little bored. He knew that they were on the opposite side of the world from Kaldea, he knew that Lestava Castle was where the royal family lived, just like he knew that the produce the village ate was imported from the farming and market village of Aletea. It wasn't difficult; surely the other kids weren't so dumb to think it was. He was bored.

Because of said boredom, Peta had taken to bringing in his own reading material: a small book about a game called _Chess_. He'd been thinking to ask his grandfather if he'd ever played and ask him to teach him if he had. So far Peta had managed to memorise the pieces involved in the game, where and the number of squares each piece was allowed to move and the aim of the game.

Idly, he began to scribble down, in his messy scrawl, the information he remembered. He aimed to have it all burnt into his mind so mercilessly he could recall everything as soon as he needed to remember it, without having to think about it.

He bit his bottom lip in thought. The weakest pieces on the chessboard (which was checked and consisted of 64 squares – eight by eight wide and long if Peta remembered correctly) were called pawns. There were eight pawns in total. He continued to scribble after a moment, as his eyes left his note book and rose to the teacher who was gesturing towards the map still. Next in the hierarchy were the two rooks, which looked like twin towers. After them were the two bishops and two knights. The queen seemed to have the most mobility and attacking power, as she was allowed to move in any direction for any number of squares. The king however, was the most important piece, despite its lack of legal moves. Peta tapped the end of his quill on his chin, the king, he recalled, was the one a person aimed to capture and once someone had done so the game ended.

He paused. What important details had he left out so far? He read over his notes hurriedly, eyes scooting down the page speedily. Wait a minute! Peta hurriedly set himself to scribbling again; the chessboard consisted of two colours, black and white, just like each player's pieces were either of the two colours. Again, Peta paused, his mind running the information he'd soaked up merely a day before through his head like a picture show made up of words.

"Peta!" A long ruler snapped down beside his bowed head, causing the boy to jump hazardously and nearly fall back in his seat, "This does not look like the Geography of Mar." His teacher remarked coldly, "If you want to waste your time here, leave. I prefer to teach children that wish to be taught."

Peta was able to hear the message underlying her words clearly, "Sorry, Miss Metis." He apologised immediately, making sure to hang his head in shame and to eye the table guiltily. His mother had had a hard time getting him into tutoring, much like she had with everything that had to do with him and the village. The least he could do was act and _not _get kicked out of his class. And he did enjoy learning, though not the junk they were learning right then. His mother had given him a book on it ages ago.

"I hope you are. Your next indiscretion will lead to you never returning. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." He answered in a timid voice.

Peta glared at her back as the woman retreated to the front of the classroom, casting a long glance at his classmates at they smirked and giggled behind their hands. He frowned, and turned the page in his ragged note book, attempting to ignore the page before it and began to write the notes the teacher was dictating. She'd collect them before they left in order to check for spelling and grammatical errors, so Peta made sure to make any. Perhaps if Miss Metis realised he could do all the work, she'd let him work on something different? He hoped so. He was going to fall asleep sometime in the near future if things kept going the way they were and he knew he'd be lectured again or kicked out either way he was in trouble from his mother.

Their lunch break didn't come fast enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"What you reading, lemon skin?"

Peta rolled his eyes from behind his small book and shifted it so he'd balanced it in his lap so that he could peer over it easily. He simply stared for a moment, wondering idly if he ought to do as his mother instructed and confuse them with his larger vocabulary or to argue from the word go, "If you're going to insult me at least do it so it doesn't make you sound dense." He replied snippily, "It's hard to take you seriously."

"Why? What are you going to do about it, shrimp?"

Anker was his age group's local bully. Peta had 'made friends' with him on his first day of tutoring three years before. He was tall (much taller than Peta and all of the other ten year olds) and sported dark brown locks and eyes. His father was the village butcher, a fact that made the other ten year old think he was the king in the classroom, playground and everyone under the age of eleven that stepped upon his ground. Not that Peta had ever listened to the tubby boy. Thinking about it right then, it would have made his life easier if he did.

"Keep reading my book?" Peta suggested sarcastically, in a tone that rivalled the one he'd heard from his mother.

The other boy grinned hugely, "Nah, that's boring. How's about we play a game?" Peta realised Anker wasn't alone, as his lackeys snickered from behind him. There were three of them, each as _lovely _as the next.

Why had Peta made it a habit to sit in one of their makeshift playground's corners? Looking around, Peta realised there was a comfortable log near where the girls sat around with their hand-made dolls, right under the tree from which it fell. However, he'd chosen to sit with his back against the wooden fence that surrounded the library (in which his classroom is located) and around the small playground. He'd trapped himself for them.

He answered confidently, despite the doubt and fright that had started to bloom in his chest, "I like reading."

"Well _I_ don't. And that's all that matters." Anker sneered.

Peta's slanted eyes narrow as Anker's bark brown ones fixed on something. Something that was located… His mouth fell agape as he slammed his somewhat thick book closed and held it to his thin chest, "You can't wreck my book! It's not mine!"

Anker smirked, "Play with me then."

"I really don't like games." Peta commented.

"I don't care." Clumsily, Anker stepped forward and made to grab the book, "Give me that then!"

With a startled cry, Peta found his arms being pulled apart from where they were over his chest and his reading by several pairs of hands. His book fell to the ground hard and with a very wet squelch, "Hey! Let go!" Temperamentally, he kicked at Anker's hand as the boy bent over to pick up his book, before he found his legs swept from beneath him. He landed with a grunt and a whine, before he leant forward so he could rub at his sore lower back. He yelled at Anker, his eyes alight with the anger that coursed through them, "I told you already, that's not mine! You can't wreck it!"

"Can't I, lemon?" The boy picked up the book and turned it none-too-gently in his hands, smearing the mud that had stuck to its front cover over the pages without a care. Peta felt as though his heart were going to implode, and the rest of him, right after that. That was from the library!

Anker frowned as he sounded out the title written in mud covered gold, "_The Rules of Chess_." He read out loud. He then turned to the three boys looming over Peta, "What's chess?"

They all murmured their 'I don't knows' simultaneously.

Peta's grey eyebrows drew into the centre of his head, "It's a game." He mumbled.

"I thought you said you didn't like games," Anker retorted immediately.

"I don't. But that doesn't stop me from reading about them."

Anker frowned and eyed the small book critically as he held it between two fingers, before he did the same to Peta, "You're weirder than you look." He stated plainly, before he smirked, "And you look really weird. So here's the deal. I won't beat you up if you stop being so weird."

"I'm not weird!"

"You are too!" The three boys around him chorused.

"Am not!" He retorted back, childishly, his mother's lecture having left his mind – not that the entire not fighting or arguing outright plan was working all that well – as he got to his feet, his sore bottom forgotten. His back and pants were caked in mud, though Peta ignored that also.

Anker snickered, "You're the only kid in the village with yellow skin! Of course you're weird!"

"And you're eyes look funny!" The kid standing to his right said in a deep, muffled voice as he hid the lower half of his face in a woollen, wood green scarf.

The one standing behind Peta was next and spoke through a snicker, "And you have grey hair and you're only ten!"

"You're not human, are you?" The last one, to Peta's left said as he pointed and laughed, spiky hair blowing in the cold breeze.

Peta found his head spinning as his eyes whirled from one boy to the next, finding that they were starting to blend together. He wasn't weird! He understood that his love for literature was odd, especially for someone his age and gender, but he wasn't weird! So what if he had exoticallycoloured skin and that his eye lids slanted down towards his nose? All they did was make him interesting to look at. It didn't matter that he was different; he was human! _He was! _

He found his voice quickly, "Stop laughing!" He ordered, his small hands clenched and tightening as their laughter only grew louder, "That's not fair!"

Peta didn't know who was more surprised as he threw himself at the bigger boy currently busting his gut laughing: him or Anker. All he knew was that one moment he was standing (angrily) in front of him and the next he was on top of Anker, his smaller fists slamming into his chest, cheeks and nose whilst his vision gained a red hue. It seemed as though he'd caught Anker's lackeys off guard too as they were currently frozen solid, mouths open and gaping like a fish out of water.

"What are you boys doing?!" He ignored her. She wouldn't stop him this time; Anker deserved every single thing he got!

A pair of arms wrapped around his mid-section and pulled off the boy. His vision didn't turn normal though; he could smell the blood, he could _smell _it and he was going to cause more! He needed to cause more! He _ached_! His body felt as though someone had lit a bonfire inside his tummy. He hadn't ever smelt something so mouth watering!

"Peta!" He felt warm hands grasp his shoulders a second before he was shaken roughly, "Stop behaving like a barbarian! We discussed this!" He didn't hlat his kicks, or his mad wriggling. He flung his elbows left and right and up and down and he needed to be let down! Who was holding him? He heard a grunt, and a hissed, "I apologise for his behaviour! I don't know what's gotten into him. I'll take him home."

Then he was hoisted up into the air and against someone. Someone with a soft, warm chest and tender hands; he could feel them holding the back of his head!

"Let me down!" He growled as though he were a mad man, "I'm not done! Let me down!"

"Peta, you need to calm down." He kicked, sent his knees at the person, clawed at their clothes and slammed his fist into their back, "Come on Peta, enough. That's enough."

"No! Not enough! More, more sweet stuff!"

"You don't like sweets. Remember, Peta?" He was starting to get tired, his swings turning into waves, "That's it, relax."

"Want more." He whimpered pathetically. As his vision cleared and he realised he was staring over someone's shoulder, his chin in the said body part. The person hummed, and his eyes started to feel heavier fast, "Want more." He repeated, his eyes finally closing.

He really _did_ want more.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Orea sighed as she felt her son go limp in her arms. She stroked her fingers through his silky hair, planting mud from Peta's clothes in it, and pressed a thankful kiss to his hot cheek, all the while holding him closer to her bigger form. Her poor, poor boy…

"Shh." She shushed as she felt his grip on her purple shirt tighten, "Shh, you're fine, relax."

Panos had warned her of their son's tastes. He'd worn her the day she'd told him of his conception. He was half demon, he'd need blood. Or in the least, he'd have a taste for it. She'd had a hard – but successful – time keeping human blood from his senses since then, though she had to admit that seeing Peta sucking on a raw pork hide made her stomach turn and flop uncomfortably.

Her husband had always claimed that human blood was far more enjoyable to consume than any other animal; humans ate a variety of things, not just vegetables or meat alone, it didn't taste as bland. She had immediately told him to be quiet, though now she wished he'd explained it all a bit more to her. But Orea hadn't thought she'd be raising Peta alone.

The cottage came into view, from behind a wall of trees. Orea made sure to keep her pace to the one she'd had for the entire walk back; she needed Peta to remain asleep. He was completely worn out, and Orea didn't know how long his blood-lust would stay. As she fumbled with her key, she hipped the door open, holding her son's head against her shoulder tenderly as she worked her way through the house.

"Sleep, Peta, stay asleep." She begged as she carefully stripped him of his wet, mud coated clothes and gingerly tucked him in bed.

His room was tidy and cramped, except for his bookshelves that inhabited the right hand wall. There was a small desk just left of the door, made of wood much like every other item in his room. His bed took up the majority of the space in the room and was covered in a ridiculous amount of messy blankets, the top one of which was a patchwork quilt she'd made the year of his seventh birthday.

Orea heard Shi mewl up at her as she scooped up Peta's clothes from where she'd dropped them on the floor and she stooped to pick up his shin covering, leather boots. Shi hopped up on the bedside table, before he bounded gracefully onto the bed beside Peta.

She glared at him, "Be quiet," She hissed, "Stupid cat. Can't you tell he's not feeling his best? He needs his sleep." Shi flicked his tail at her and curled up on top of her son's chest as she turned to leave the room. Orea muttered about him and how it had been a mistake to allow her son to keep such a nuisance cat.

Then the day's events found their way to her mind again. This wasn't going to go down well with her father or the village leader. She'd managed to soothe any doubts about Peta's blood lust before he'd started tutoring, but his _tantrum_ was going to plant seeds of doubt again, seeds she didn't think she'd be able to sow. Not this time.

"Oh, Panos. I don't know what to do." She sighed worriedly, as she threw her son's clothes into a hand woven basket. Orea then hurriedly returned to Peta's doorway, her eyes full of worry as she watched her son sleep.

How could she stop this from happening again? What had the little brat said to make Peta physically attack him? It didn't add up in Orea's mind. Peta had been foul tempered at the best of times, but he didn't turn violent. He often stuck out his bottom lip and sulked for an hour, but he never raised a fist as a reply to whatever or whoever had annoyed him. And she'd talked to him about Anker's unfair jabs at Peta's less than human appearance.

A loud, banging erupted from the front of the cottage, causing Orea to jump and close Peta's door as hurriedly and quietly as she could manage. She hurried through the hallways, careful of her son's boots as she passed them from where they were dripping over the floor in the kitchen and threw open the door to greet whoever was using it as a drum with a glare.

She forced herself to remain still and unmoving from where she'd planted herself; in the doorway, as she came face to face a man thrice her size wide and one and half times her height. His top lip was kept warm with a large, bushy moustache and his eyes were like pin pricks. Orea regarded him with cold eyes, "What is it Plato?" She asked impatiently.

"What is it?" He repeated in a deep, gruff voice, "What is it!? Your son's a monster, that's what _it _is!"

"Oh please," Orea sighed, "I haven't talked to Peta yet, but I haven't a doubt that your boy was the one that started the fight."

"Your boy broke my boy's nose!"

"And I'm terribly sorry he did. However," She spat acidly, as the butcher's massive hands clenched in front of him, "You can't come over here and claim that Anker did nothing to deserve it!"

"He was victimised!" Plato roared, as he pointed a meaty finger over Orea's shoulder, into the house, "And your boy was the one that attacked him!"

"Peta's less than half his size! You don't really think my 'puny son' would be able to do such damage to your own? Is that what you're telling me?"

The giant spluttered messily before he hissed threateningly, spit flying in every direction as he leant down to look Orea in the eye, "Orea, this isn't over. If I see your son even _breathe_ in my boy's direction, _I _will remove his yellow head clean off his shoulders!" Without waiting for her reply, he spun around clumsily, "Do you hear me, clean off his shoulders!" He hollered over his right shoulder as he stomped away.

Orea let out a shaky breathe. That man had always made her tremble with fear; he was so violent, so large and strong. He could snap her in two with barely any effort! She circled the door, and closed it. She sighed again as she moved to sit at the table, her slender fingers rubbing at her temples slowly. A sharp pain shot down her spine from her shoulder blades. She'd think whilst she bathed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The bathroom was as quiet as ever, as she sunk down into the steamy water Orea had filled the bath with. It was small (though nothing like Peta's bedroom was) and possessed a large tub in which she was bathing from and a smaller basin to wash her face in. There was another basin for when nature called in the corner at the back of the room.

From the small mirror she'd placed in there, leaning against the other side of the room, she could tell that her left shoulder was erupting in disgusting yellow and purple bruises from her son's hits that afternoon. Her smooth abdomen was in the same condition, whilst her breasts were tender from Peta's mad wriggling.

She hadn't ever known Peta could possess the strength to create such wounds. She ached all over, as though she'd had a tree fall on top of her. Just like she hadn't thought that her innocent walk through the village would lead her to witnessing one of the most heart-stopping moments of her life. She'd only wanted to stock up on material, the good stuff considering it was a merchant from Aletea that wanted a new set of formal clothes. She hadn't thought she'd find her son beating the living soul out of the butcher's son!

"Mummy?" Orea jumped, immediately finding herself glad that her back turned towards the wall from where she sat in her bath as Peta suddenly appeared in the door way, rubbing at his sleep filled eyes tiredly as he entered the bathroom in nothing but his underwear. She could see him shivering, but he seemed set on talking to her. He spotted her bruised shoulder quickly and he ran to the side of the large tub and peered down at her pale form with large eyes, "Ma! What happened? Are you alright? Who did this?"

"No one, Peta. It's dangerous walking around the forest, I've told you that. I had a branch fall on top of me." She hastily curled her knees, bringing them to her bare chest as Peta eyed her as though he didn't believe her, "I'm fine, really." She soothed as she smiled kindly and reached for his very pinch able left cheek.

Peta still didn't seem to believe her, but let it slide anyway as she ran her left thumb over the curve of his cheek. He sat down beside the tub. He was so vigilant! Just like his father! And that wasn't always a good thing, "What's wrong? Hm? Peta?"

She hooked her arms over the side of the tub and ran her fingers through Peta's mussed hair. He drew away from her fingers with a whine, so that he was lying on the stone floor, "I hurt Anker pretty bad, didn't I, Ma?"

"I should say you did, he had the bloodiest nose I've ever seen!" Peta nodded mutely and they were blanketed with an oppressive silence. Peta's usually curious aura was of a depressing sort that afternoon and Orea watched sadly as her son sniffled and rubbed at his eyes again.

"Hey." She attempted, as his snuffling drew louder, "Peta," She stood, quickly reaching and drawing her white, scratchy towel around her pale, nude form as her son's tears started to leak and trail down his face freely. "Peta…" She called again, as she gathered him into her arms and sat herself down beside him.

She sighed and began to rock backwards and forwards, humming and hushing Peta's sobs as he curled up tighter and buried his face deeper into her neck. She felt tears prick at her own eyes.

Her son was no monster; no monster felt remorse as Peta did. As her son's tears lessened and finally stopped, she cursed herself for having fallen for a demon. No matter how charming the said demon was. She and Peta were in for a lot of heartache and Orea felt like she'd brought it upon them both.

Perhaps that was why the damsel in distress never fell for the bad guy?

* * *

**Woffy:** … Kids are bastards. That's all I have to say. To make it more realistic I sought help from my ten (nine?) year old neighbour. All insults come from his mouth (as it's amazing how difficult I find it to insult someone). Anyway… 

This chapter should have been of better quality than the first one; I'm actually feeling better so I'm finding it easier to use my brain (not that I use it all that much anyway). And I find myself mourning Panos' death. T.T Why'd I kill him off so early? I must have suffered from temporary insanity!

I'd like to thank the following people for reviewing (and helping me get through this chapter by doing so): _vivid4, X-Ruby-X, Aqua Alta, GintaxAlvissForever _and _Maverick no Knight. _You're all awesome and get lamingtons. –hands them out-

Anyway, reviews make an authoress happy and word crazy. :D


End file.
